


Sandwiches

by detergent



Series: Multitudes [4]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cooking with Palcë, Gen, Sandwiches, kitchen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26645086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detergent/pseuds/detergent
Summary: Rescued from captivity, Palcë finds himself in a bijou Parisian townhouse owned by one of his rescuers. He knows three things- These people mean him no harm, everyone is damn tired, and now he has a moment's respite, he's very hungry.
Relationships: Hiro the Dog/Cheese, Palce (OMC)/Sandwich
Series: Multitudes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1425331
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verhalen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840649) by [verhalen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen). 



A pile of battle-soiled weapons lay in a jumble on the very expensive and brilliant Persian rug in the middle of the drawing-room. Through the window, the Paris sky spread over the rooftops, tinged with the purples and deep blue-grey of the dying day. The elegant structure of the Eifel Tower stood out to be glimpsed over the thick hedges and roses of the small private garden that lay behind the townhouse. Strewn across a large love-seat, an enormous overstuffed couch and several comfortable chairs lay a human jumble. Sören lay across Anthony's lap half asleep, a smudge of something disgusting decorating his cheek. Behind Anthony sprawled Nicholas in a most undignified pose. The American general sat in one of the chairs, looking sombre as he tapped his boot with the hilt of a very plain-looking knife, staring off into space. Victor and Yeyette were curled up in the loveseat, their clothes grinding filth into the soon to be devastated upholstery. Dara had announced he'd make coffee but after he had sat on the floor in front of Yeyette and Victor, he had fallen asleep, his head slowly tipping back against Yeyette's hip, her hand full of his jacket collar. Ryu lay on his back snoring, his head pillowed on the side of Hiro, his wolfhound. Maglor had draped himself across another chair near Sören, Nicholas, and Anthony.

Palcë watched the motley group doze. He sat on the edge of the remaining chair attempting to keep from soiling it. Yeyette and Sören had fussed over him and bullied him into the downstairs half-bath after they'd first arrived, tutting and looking alternately amazed and dismayed as they retrieved some kind of pouch from another room and set to cleaning and tending his wounds, completely oblivious to their own cuts and knocks. They used brown soap that left stains on his skin to wash out everything and then used adhesive strips to hold wound edges together. Once they were satisfied he wouldn't bleed to death, they stopped fussing so much but Yeyette broke out into fresh protestations when he turned the tap to the sink, filled his cupped palms with water and began to drink. "We have glasses! We have bottled water!" she wailed. So he had turned off the tap and he allowed them to install him into the chair where he now sat and Yeyette had brought him a glass bottle of mineral water. Being unfamiliar with screw-tops, he broke the neck of the bottle on the edge of the marble table as he'd broken many a bottle of wine in the past. 

"Goodness!" exclaimed Nicholas, jumping awake. 

"Perhaps a glass would have been better," remarked Victor. "Points for elegance, though now we must remember to sweep later," he held out an arm to Yeyette, who had started to hover around the group in case anything was needed, though it was plain she was beginning to fall asleep on her feet as she swayed. She managed to see Victor's gesture and had gone to sit with him. Dara made his announcement about coffee and derailed himself by sitting near the pair and Yeyette had reached down and crumpled his collar into her grip. Sören had remained standing for a few moments but Nicholas summoned him to the sofa where Anthony grabbed him and pulled him into his lap.

Everyone sat or sprawled where they were as the sky darkened. The lights of the city made the clouds glow a soft orange-grey. Hiro snored loudly. Palcë's stomach grew hollow. Hunger had been a constant companion in the past but now that he had his freedom, it was annoying to bear. He shifted in his seat, restless at the emptiness in his belly. Yeyette's eyes flicked open. Dara woke and looked straight at him as if assuring himself there was no threat; the slight noise Palcë's clothes made against the cushions had woken him as well. 

"Do you need something?" she drawled, exhaustion making her cultured speech reckless.

"I thought I might look for something to eat," he admitted.

"I can make you something. A sandwich, maybe... All we have is two-day-old bread and cold cuts- There hasn't been any time to get to the market with all of this going on."

Dara scooted over to allow her to get up but Palcë stopped her.

"It isn't your job to make me food. If you'd tell me where it is, I can do it."

"You're a guest."

"You're exhausted. You don't owe me a sandwich just because I've never been under your roof. I owe you and everyone else here something to eat for what you've done for me. Tell me where you keep the bread and the... cold-cuts?" Cold cuts were maybe some sort of cooking implement.

"Luncheon meats," supplied Victor with a yawn.

Palcë hesitated. Okay, meat then?

"It's slices of ham, maybe some roast beef if Hiro didn't get into it. Cheese," Ryu elaborated from the rug.

"It's all in the fridge. It's a metal cabinet in the kitchen that keeps food cold. It's the only tall metal cabinet in the kitchen. Maybe there's some leftover cake in there too. I brought some home from the shop the other day," added Anthony.

"An abomination," huffed Nicholas.

"Cake is cake," snorted Anthony. "And you ate some too, you know."

"Which is why I am qualified to call that store-bought monstrosity an abomination."

"Oui, Chef," Anthony gently mocked him, leading to a snicker from Sören.

"The kitchen is down the hall to the left," Yeyette directed and Palcë pushed himself to his feet. Soon, he was in the kitchen.

The spacious room was filled with all sorts of appliances he didn't understand, glossy marble countertops, different metal boxes and a sink. He found the 'fridge' soon enough and pulled open the doors to find some brown paper parcels looking very lonely, no cake in sight, but accompanied by some of the same bottles of water that he had broken open earlier. He felt too tired to be too embarrassed by having broken the bottle open rather than using the... twist top? Whatever that was. No one seemed to mind at least and he'd ask for a broom later to clean up after himself. 

A delightful chill emanated from the 'fridge'; it made him feel more awake. Certain, however, that this was not an additional feature to the cabinet, he grabbed the parcels and spread them out on one of the countertops. He found the bread, peeping out of a paper bag, laying in a wire basket. He took an exploratory sniff of the loaves and relished the buttery, yeasty, comforting smell. Then, as he didn't want to use anything that had blood on it, he ripped open the three loaves he discovered and rolled open the parcels from the fridge, finding he had what appeared to be ham and beef, some sort of fowl, probably, and some slices of white cheese with a sharp, tangy aroma that made his mouth spring painfully with water. He built three sandwiches from everything he'd found and used some of the spare paper from the parcels to wrap them for carrying. He found a rubbish bin with a lid near the door and cleaned up after himself, dumping the paper into its belly and wiping the counter down with a rag he'd found hanging on the faucet in the sink. He grabbed the sandwiches and carried them back to the drawing-room.

"I thought you all might like to help me eat these," he announced, somewhat self-consciously, placing his handiwork on the coffee table. 

"Very kind of you," Ryu eyed a piece of cheese protruding from one of the creations. Hiro sat up, causing his master to slide down his back and bounce unceremoniously onto the floor. Hiro went to sit by the coffee table in anticipation.

"I'll cut if you'll hand the pieces 'round," said DeKalb. "My knife's clean."

Palcë smiled and handed out the pieces as they were cut, giving three to Dara who handed two on to Yeyette and Victor. Everyone got a piece, even Hiro. Even Maglor who had nearly fallen to the floor when Sören booped his nose to wake him.

"You're pretty good at making sandwiches," commented Yeyette between bites. "Maybe we should keep you in the kitchen," she teased.

"We'd have to take his shoes," added Sören.

"I would rather not stay in the kitchen," he carefully brushed the crumbs off his hands onto the wapper.

"We're just teasing. You're not a kitchen boy," Sören grinned, then yawned so it looked as if he'd crack his jaw.

"No," Palcë agreed, feeling full for the first time in ages. He leaned back in his chair and soon fell asleep.


End file.
